gold
by jinlian
Summary: Summer Olympics 172 ASC - How United Republic athletes win gold, and how some people learn to like it when others welcome themselves into their lives.


Korra first meets Mako when she's climbing out of the pool after only her second day of practise in the official water games arena. He's passing by to get to the diving well where the other divers are stretching, looking neither right nor left of him, and she—after a double take to make sure she's gotten him right—calls after him.

"You're Mako!"

He keeps walking. She doesn't even wait for a response to haul herself completely out of the water and run after him, dripping wet and suit half-unzipped, cap dangling by the strings in her hand. "I saw the special on you and your brother while I was watching the gymnastics trials," she says, still one step behind him as he only speeds his pace. "I think it's really cool that you could come here to compete together. If I had a brother or sister I would—"

"I have to practise." He cuts her off, still not bothering to even glance at her, still walking to the mats behind the diving boards where a man with long black hair is already stretching. "We only have two hours before the Fire Nation team gets their time, and I need every second of _focus_ I can get."

She gets the hint and stops, mouth hanging open and blatantly staring at how _rude_ he is. She'd expected the boy who had continued to fight for his little brother's Olympic dreams even after their parents died to be… well, a little friendlier.

"Come on, Hasook, let's get this done," she hears him say before she sticks her tongue out at his back and blows.

* * *

The Olympic water polo teams are named relatively early, so Korra already knows she's going to Ba Sing Se for the Games when she watches the trials on the television with her cousins. Honestly, Korra doesn't care who else will be representing the United Republic on the other teams; she only cares that _she_ is going. But Jinora and Ikki _really_ want to watch gymnastics, and Korra's impatient to soak in everything she can of the Olympics. So even though the names and performances don't matter much, she sits down with the younger girls to see more of the rings and to hear the drums and trumpets of the Olympic fanfare.

Korra first hears about Mako on the night of the men's gymnastics trials.

The gymnast to watch, Ikki informs Korra, is an eighteen-year-old named Bolin—just barely old enough to compete and yet expected to land first place in the all-around trials and secure the only assured spot on the men's Olympics team. Sure enough, there's plenty of talk about Bolin from the announcers as the trials begin, and they use every opportunity to cut the camera to him. Bolin is clearly younger than the other competitors but no less built. He has a mop of curly hair that he keeps out of his face with a thin, pink elastic headband, and he seems unable to sit still: bouncing in his seat, yelling support to the other gymnasts, smiling directly at the camera and giving it a thumbs-up. Korra grins as she watches him; he's more entertaining than any of the others in the room, and as far as she knows, gymnastics is all about the show.

Before stepping up for his parallel bars routine, Bolin waves into the stands. "And there he's waving to his older brother, Mako," one of the commentators says. "Talk of the Olympics, these two. Mako's just qualified for both individual and synchronised diving and now he's here to support Bolin. Their parents died only a few years ago, but Mako pulled them through—says Bolin had a dream they would go to the Olympics together and more than ever he was determined to make it happen. It's looking like that dream will come true tonight!"

Korra sits upright at that. She loves water polo, but there were times, she thinks, that if it hadn't been for her parents, for her aunt and uncle and cousins, for all her teammates, that she wouldn't have made it through all the injuries and exhausting practises and long days that took her to the national team and beyond. To have done that with her family dying—well, she's not sure she could. Especially if she had to provide for a little brother, too.

She likes Bolin well enough already; she wants to know much more about Mako.

Luckily for Korra, she doesn't have long to wait. In place of commercials the station airs a short special on the brothers. Mako, in interview clips, doesn't seem to like being on camera; he's tense and he isn't effusive, body curling in as he runs a hand through his hair every few seconds. "I just did what I had to do," he says. "I just wanted to make my brother happy, after everything. He'd already worked so hard."

Bolin tells (much more enthusiastically than his brother) about how Mako would drive him to the gym daily, how he worked night jobs and in between practises to pay for gym memberships—and so that they could have a place to sleep and eat. That's all impressive, but what really gets Korra's attention are the replayed clips of Mako's diving trials: exploding off the boards, muscles tight as he curls and twists, feet pointed and body perfectly straight as he enters the water. It's a very different sight from the roughness of water polo, preciseness to her sport's splashing and flailing, a quiet concentration from the screaming and shouting she does from the hole.

Once she finally _does_ meet Mako, Korra is disgruntled. She's not sure what she expected of him, but it wasn't that, and she's not sure how to take it. _She's_ a young star, too, a starter in her rookie year—is he just stuck up? She can stand on level with him, she'll show him when she leads women's water polo to the gold.

Unfortunately, Mako and Korra both soon realise, they have to share deck space for at least a few minutes every day. Mako's practise time with Hasook immediately follows Korra's team practise, which does nothing to help his mood. Working with Hasook is stressful enough. Mako hates synchronised diving, but being one of the top divers in the world it would have been unacceptable for him not to participate in all diving events. Hasook was fine as a partner at first, when Mako made it clear who was in charge, but with so much time spent together training for the Olympics they are beginning to hate the sight of each other. Mako will be glad when synchro events are over.

Korra sends looks she thinks are subtle his way as her practises end. He does his best to ignore them, but Korra's very presence demands to be noticed. Once, during an attempt at a backwards two-and-a-half somersault with a full twist, Mako sees her across the pool and throws the dive too early, resulting in a painful entry. At first, that's all she wants—for him to _notice_ her, that the Games aren't just about him. But she finds throughout the week that she likes watching diving even more in person, that Mako's dry and biting insults towards Hasook make her lips twitch, that Mako values hard work and success and all Hasook wants is to enjoy himself.

Korra asks Mako that, if he even _knows_ how to enjoy himself. He asks if that's_all_ she knows. Korra considers tripping him.

On Friday, his last day of practise before the Games begin, she chooses to helpfully point out, with most of her team still present, that he's neglected his Speedo ties. Mako hasn't a clue how to respond at first and simply rubs his face with his shammy—an excuse to keep it hidden. It's only a few seconds later, however, that he can't help but respond: "Thanks for the inspection, Captain Korra."

* * *

At the opening ceremonies, the women's water polo team processes in just behind men's diving. Korra walks just a little faster than she should, pokes Mako's side. "Hey, hotshot," she says, and he squeezes his eyes shut and prays she'll disappear but she doesn't. "I didn't see you at the party in the Village last night. People were calling for the Fabulous Twisting Brothers or whatever you are—why miss the fun?"

"I was getting _sleep," _Mako says as though it's absurd that there was any other option.

"Bolin seemed to enjoy himself," Korra responds, crossing her arms and looking smug as though Bolin's partying was a personal victory. And then, completely unnecessarily—"Did you know there are free condoms in all the bathrooms in the Village?"

Mako whips around to demand _what in the world that was supposed to mean_ but the trumpets and fanfares start up again and the athletes come to a halt and Mako can barely hear himself think.

The Games begin, and schedules change. Water polo teams move practises to the smaller natatorium that won't be used for televised events; swimming and diving compete. Mako is glad to finally, finally be at this point. He doesn't like the fanfare of the Olympics, doesn't like the cameras and the flash. The special Korra had mentioned had been a horrific experience that he'd only done because they'd been paid for it. Mako just likes the sport itself, the solidarity and strength and control in diving—and the idea that he might get a few good sponsorships if he wins enough medals.

And Bolin—Bolin, who watches him from the stands, who told Mako when they were five and seven and had just begun taking gymnastics lessons together that he just wanted to one day come home together from the Olympics, both of them with gold medals in their hands.

Mako looks to Bolin before he begins every hurdle.

* * *

The conclusion of the week of swimming and diving events is the only reason that Bolin has no problem dragging Mako out with him and other United Republic athletes for a celebratory dinner. Mako has a medal of every colour: silver and bronze for synchro, gold for all his individual events. Bolin wants to show him off, but Mako stops short of wearing his medals out to dinner.

"You can do it when you get _your_ gold medals, Bo," he says instead, shoving playfully at his brother's head as he shuts his bedroom door behind them.

Mako notices almost immediately that Korra is among the loud group waiting for them at the restaurant of choice for the evening. She waves the brothers over to her table. The company is large, though, and Korra outgoing, so Mako is mostly free to sit back, a half-smile on his face, and watch his brother in good company.

"A toast," Bolin says loudly, "to my brother, and all his medals, which may look impressive now but won't be nearly as cool as the collection I'll have in two weeks. Am I right?"

Someone buys Mako a drink, and though he only sips, it's gone more quickly than he expects. Mako usually hates drinking—he hates having his senses muddled, his tongue loosened, his agency gone. He simply can't risk it, not with the responsibilities he has to Bolin. But sitting in the Olympic Village with Bolin so happy and all his responsibilities, for the moment, gone, Mako finds it more difficult to say no. He asks for a refill.

It could only be better if their parents were with him.

The thought hits him like a bus, and Mako's suddenly struggling to breathe quite so easily. Usually he can just _not think about it,_ focus on keeping Bolin's attention on the positive things and in so doing not think about what they were missing, himself. But every once in a while the thought of their parents' death will float casually through his mind and leave him floored. Two years—it hasn't been long enough to recover, really.

Sometimes Mako sees in Bolin too _much_ happiness, making up for what he's feeling when he knows Mako is watching. He thinks he sees that now, in the celebration of Mako's success. Bolin is thinking the same as Mako: _This isn't fair, they should be here for him._ Mako tilts his glass back further. He's done his best to shield Bolin from as much pain as possible since their parents' deaths, but there are some things that can't be avoided—like the gaping holes that spring when things are supposed to be happy.

Mako feels a hand on his shoulder and a puff of air against his ear. "All right, tipsy," Korra says, "you haven't responded to the last five times I've said your name and you're trying to bury your face in that glass. It's time to get you home."

He protests, but she bodily heaves him from his chair _(spirits, she's strong)_. "I can't leave," Mako mumbles, "he's happy, he needs family here," but Korra either doesn't hear or ignores him and he finds himself on his way back to their hotel without his permission.

"What did you mean?" she asks when she's pushed him back onto his bed, her question hesitant, afraid of asking. "That he's happy, so he needs family. Isn't it a good thing that he's happy with so many other people?"

"I just," Mako begins, and it's hard to get his tongue around the words and some part of him is screaming that he's saying this to someone he _barely knows_ but he can't stop himself, "I just don't want him to feel that he's lost everyone, that there's still someone with him and he can't lose that."

His voice breaks, and it hits Korra that it isn't Bolin who feels that way—it's _Mako_. Slowly, slowly, she puts her arms around him, pulls his head against her shoulder. He doesn't protest. Instead, his breathing slows and steadies until it's clear he's asleep. But when Korra tries to pull away she realises that at some point he put his arms around her, too, because they tighten around her waist and, rather than waking him, she sighs and falls asleep with him.

Mako wakes up early the next morning and leaves without a word.

* * *

They don't see each other again until Thursday.

Without his usual routine of early morning practise or work, Mako spends the first few days of his week off waking up at the crack of dawn to take a run around the Olympic Village. On Thursday, however, he has an accidental and uncharacteristic lie-in, meaning that the dining room is much more crowded than he's accustomed when he finally arrives for breakfast.

Mako collects his food and pauses for a few moments to scan the room for Bolin, whom he finds sitting with Korra and a gorgeous black-haired, green-eyed girl he thinks is on the fencing team. He takes a few steps towards them, then something stops Mako in place. He's not sure what it is: Bolin is gesturing wildly with his hands, the green-eyed girl is laughing, and Korra is leaning in to inject something into the conversation. He's sure they'd welcome him if he sat, and yet they all look so happy, so friendly, with each other that Mako feels _uncomfortable._

Mako unsticks his feet from the floor and turns away. He eats breakfast in his room.

He finds himself at the semifinals of women's water polo later that day, though he isn't sure what leads him there. He's never watched a game of water polo before in his life (and he doesn't think he likes it—there's too much flailing and going back and forth without indication of any obvious sort of strategy or setup), but anyone can tell that Korra is _good._ Her teammates trust her instincts—and her shooting arm. After her first four goals, the Earth Kingdom team takes special care to mark her and keep her as far away from the goal as possible. After her fifth, Mako wonders if the opposing team has just decided to drown her. Two metres in front of the goal it sure seems that way, her head barely above water with two defenders on her side. She tries to drive away, and suddenly the audience hisses; the referee blows his whistle and Mako half-rises to his feet to see Korra with her hands over her left eye.

She swims over to the side of the pool where her coach helps her out and hands her a bag of ice. She presses it to her face as he says something—she shakes her head, places her free hand on her hip. Finally the coach throws up his hands. Satisfied, Korra tosses aside the ice and slides back into the water.

She takes the penalty shot, skips the ball under the lunging goalie's arm.

The game ends with a two-point win for the United Republic, a close game to the last. Korra climbs out of the water out of breath and half her face bruised purple, but she jumps on a teammate's back (knocking them both back into the pool) and pumps her fist.

That image stays in his head all night.

"You were at the game," Mako hears at dinner before Korra plunks her tray down and slides onto the bench across from him.

"What?"

"I saw you," she says like she's just won a bet. She gives no indication that she even remembers the weekend incident, but Mako knows she must. "What did you think, cool guy? I was pretty impressive, huh?"

This close, Mako gets a much better inspection of her face. There's a small cut under her left eye, the black-and-purple bruise spreading across her cheekbone making it puff. Vaguely he remembers accusing her of not knowing how to work hard, then the sight of her refusing to stop playing after an elbow to her eye, laughing and triumphant after the game with her face still half-swollen. "Not bad," he grants, picking at his chao mien. Not bad at all.

"'Not bad'?" Korra leans over the table, pointing at her face. "This is the face of a champion—I don't see _you_ with a black eye and a gold medal game tomorrow. Take good note, because this will be a face you see everywhere when I score the winning goal against the North Pole. Watch me, Speedo Butt."

_"Speedo Butt?"_ Mako echoes, incredulous, but he does take very good note. They're nearly nose-to-nose and he doesn't lean back. His eyes flicker from the cut at the top of her bruise to her eyelashes, dark on dark skin, to the shape of her lips as they curve up in a smirk—

Gradually, Mako comes to remember the feel of Korra's cheek against the top of his head, her arms around him, his face pressed into her shoulder. He's suddenly aware that he's _very hot,_ and they've been staring into each other's eyes for a while now, but he doesn't quite know what to do with himself since he's sitting perfectly straight in his own seat. It's Korra, thankfully, who turns bright red, coughs, and sits back down so hard that she nearly topples backwards off the bench.

"Watch me," she repeats, and the next day Mako does just that.

Mako tells Korra that in return for his staying not only for the entire gold medal game but also the medal ceremony, she has to attend every one of Bolin's gymnastics events the next week. She readily agrees, claiming that she was already planning to so, though—rather taken aback by the request—she demands to know whether he just can't get enough of her.

"You actually_ like_ having me around," she says smugly, and his retort of "Get over yourself" is tempered by the smile he only makes a half-hearted attempt to hide.

* * *

When Bolin wins the all-around, Mako leaps to his feet, heart pounding as he cheers until his throat is sore. He's dimly aware that Korra is squeezing his waist, hugging and shaking him in her congratulations. He doesn't throw her off. It's _nice _to be able to share in this victory, in his pride for Bolin, with someone. It isn't just him alone on the sidelines—not any more.

When Bolin wins gold in rings the next day, Mako hugs Korra back.

When finally the Games are over and Ba Sing Se throws the closing ceremony, the athletes don't have to march in line. This time they can stand where they will. Bolin stays side by side with Mako, beaming with his gold medals around his neck and his arm thrown around his brother. Mako can swear Bolin is about to cry.

Mako feels a tug on his hand and he's yanked away from his brother. It's Korra, of course, dragging him off for herself. Beneath all the fireworks and confetti, in the flashes of light in the dark, Mako can just barely see her face. "Look at what we did," she yells over the music and the screaming of the crowd. "Look where we _are."_

Mako doesn't look. Instead he kisses her.

She leans in, stands on tiptoe. He curls a hand around her neck, tilts both their heads for a better angle, pulls away and noses along her jawline until his lips tickle the curve of her ear.

"Did you know there are free condoms in all the bathrooms in the Village?"


End file.
